I saunter up and down the aisles, searching for just the right one. So many salacious options. So many deviant choices. But which one is right…for you?
Should it restrain? Vibrate? Grip? Punish? Fill? Tease? Flog? Penetrate?
Do I want it to leave marks? Do I want it to make you cum fast or slow?
Do I want it to make the streams of sweat run down both our bodies, or just yours?
Do I want to participate or watch?
I run my finger across my lips as I contemplate my options. I do like variety, so maybe I need more than one?
I smile as I think of your reaction. When you sit across from me in the funky little coffee shop on Alder Street and look bemusedly at the innocuous package I place in front of you. I will watch you open it, my tongue tracing my lips like a hungry wolf.
Will you smile? Blush?Will your cock twitch in your jeans as you anticipate what I will do to you with your gift? Will you want to skip our evening plans and go straight home or will you have the self control to ride the waves of anticipation?
Will you let me insert it? Will you let me tease your most intimate places? Will you vocalize your pleasure or try and hide how good it feels?
Or will you throw open the cage door and unleash the animal? Grip my head, say dirty things to me, beg me for more? Beg me to go deeper, harder, faster?
As I walk the aisles with these thoughts swirling like a gossamer curtain around my mind, I can feel the slickness forming between my thighs.
I smile, clench my body as I picture holding you fast inside me and just squeezing you – squeeze and release, squeeze and release, until you can’t stand it any longer and your hands dig into the muscles of my ass as you thrust up into me.
The moisture is seeping into my panties now.
My eyes alight on it then. The package is in my hands before I even realize I have reached for it. I flip the box over and read the back as images of your response to this toy come unbidden into my mind. I don’t even know it, but I’m smiling. That grin. The one you always tell me means mischief.
The best kind of mischief.
The kind you love.
The mischief you crave.
I walk to the register with my selection; my grin widening as I hear my own voice in my head:
“Open it, Sweetheart.”